


"Michael Down the Drain" ('Squiplr', Book 1)

by Oddly_Cassie



Series: "Squiplr" (A Be More Chill AU Series) [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Sincere (au)
Genre: Be More Sincere (BMC AU), Body Dysmorphia, Bulimia, Bulimic Michael Mell, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gay Michael Mell, Inspired by Be More Chill, Jeremy Heere why did you leave, M/M, Michael Mell has Body Dysmorphia, Michael Mell's gay moms, Multi, Pro-mia Tumblr, The Squip but as a toxic Tumblr, Tumblr, bi jeremy heere, may be triggering, trigger warning, tw!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oddly_Cassie/pseuds/Oddly_Cassie
Summary: Michael Mell suffers from anxiety and body dyspmorphia. Jeremy Heere suffers from Social anxiety. However, there is one entity that vows to help these troubled kiddos "fix themselves"; a Tumblr user simply known by the name, "Squip".----This first book in the Squiplr series follows Michael Mell into his spiral into the dangers of the Pro-ED community with the Squip's influence towards helping him "fixing" his body issues. This ends up with some serious consequences, and Michael only feels worse afterwards.
Relationships: Christine Canigula/Jeremy Heere, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, Timothy Kleinman/Rich Goranski
Series: "Squiplr" (A Be More Chill AU Series) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143266
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Be more chill





	1. "School Lunch"

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning- This story contains strong themes, such as; Body dysmorphia, Eating Disorders, Bulimia, vomiting/Emetophobia triggers, Manipulation and self-hatred.   
> . . .  
> Reader's discretion is advised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- Body Dysmorphia mentions, manipulation

It was noon, and the bell finally rung for lunch. Man, fourth period just seemed to go on forever. But Michael Mell was happy that the class was over- health class was not Michael's jam, especially since they recently had been talking about physical health and "healthy eating", which didn't make him feel any better about himself.

He put his headphones on, with his music blasting, and dragged himself off to the cafeteria, giving a soft yawn. His anxiety made him feel sluggish and tired, and gave him a hard time sleeping, and he had been feeling quite anxious lately. Upon getting to the cafeteria, he was greeted in the lunch line by a very happy-looking Timothy Kleinman, his dorky, autistic best friend. Michael gave him a sleepy smile, but it was short lived, his anxious thoughts beginning to cloud the back of his mind. 

He and Timothy both shuffled through the line, Timothy just grabbed a milk, because he usually brought his own food, and didn't trust the school food. However, Michael didn't have that luxury, and the school food was edible enough, he thought.

Michael got up in the line to grab some food, but looking at it, he felt his stomach knot up. "Ugh,I can't eat", He thought to himself. Instead, he went off to the salad bar and just got himself a salad, which was mostly just the sketchy lettuce that was somehow always soggy and those limp skinny carrot stick things. Sitting down with his friends, he quietly slumped himself down into a chair, next to Jeremy Heere, another of his friends, whom he had known since the age of 7. Everyone was already chatting and laughing with one another, so Michael put his music back on, and scrolled through his Tumblr a bit. He then placed his phone down and picked up his fork. With his anxiety being as terrible as it was, he found he didn't have much of an appetite. He took his fork and poked at his salad a bit with a sigh, when suddenly his phone buzzed. It was his Tumblr, someone had messaged him. Someone by the name of ..."Squip".  
....  
Michael picked up his phone hesitantly and tapped the notification. He wasn't sure who would be messaging him, through Tumblr nonetheless. His page wasn't exactly popular or anything, he just mostly reblogged memes, so it was odd for anyone to be messaging him.  
Opening up his message requests, he looked at the username; "Squip"... Michael didn't recognize the name, but he accepted the message request, and viewed the first message this "Squip" person had sent.  
\--------------------------------------------  
_Squip_: Uh, hey! Correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember seeing you posted... Somewhere... that you have struggled with your body image, and I really relate to that! 

-Michael hesitated, thinking the message was oddly invasive, but then replied.-  
. . .

Player-2: Uh yeah, I have felt that way before... I guess it's cool you could relate to that.

_Squip_: Yeah, I've felt that way before, but I can help you!

\- _Squip_ sent 2 photos-

/"Squip" sent two photos, picturing a young teen, the faces in each photo cropped off. The first photo showed the body of a fairly chubby kid, and the second photo showed what was supposedly the same kid, now much thinner.\

_Squip_: These are both me, I used to be so fat..  
but because of things here on Tumblr and tips I got from others, I lost all that gross weight. If you let me help you, I can help you get the body you'll finally be happy with.  
What do you say, 'Player 2'?

\----------------------------------------------

Michael found the messages really strange, almost creepy... But at the same time, seeing those pictures, began to make the dysmorphic voices swirl around in his head... And the offer intrigued him. Michael had always been self-conscious of his weight, and he did have a habit of binge-eating, or overeating when he was sad, bored, or just really stoned and had the munchies. He had always resented this habit, and had tried many diets to control it, which were all unsuccessful in the end. Even if this was just another fad diet, Michael at least wanted to give what the Squip had in mind a try.

Was that so wrong?  
After a few minutes of thought, Michael finally replied.  
-

\------------------------------------------  
Player-2: "you know what, why not? I mean, what do I have to lose?  
(other than maybe 10 pounds😂)"

_Squip_: Alright then, well. First tip, ditch the school "salad". If you're gonna eat a salad, at least eat a real one.

Player-2: -uhh... How did you know... -Ah, nvm.  
-y'know what, I'll just eat later, lol not even hungry right now.

_Squip_: I'd say that's a better choice than eating that school crap, in the meantime, check this out-  
(pro-bones-blog-tumblr)*  
It's where I got most of my tips! 

Player-2: Alright, I'll check it out.  
-Gtg.  
\-----------------------------------------  
With that, Michael pushed his plateful of school salad away sheepishly, when Jeremy seemed to take notice. He looked up. "Michael, are you okay? Are you not feeling well?", his childhood friend asked, with an expression of concern. Then Rich Goranski piped in. (He was previously known as the school bully, and while Michael still didn't like him much, he sat with them because of his relationship status with Timothy, as his boyfriend.) "Yeah, uh...Since when do you eat nothing but a shitty salad, what are you, on a diet?", Rich scoffed. "Eh, maybe... To be honest, I'm not even gonna eat this, I'm just not super hungry today", Michael sighed, pushing the salad further away from himself. "So, y-you got a salad, a-and now you're n-n-not even g-gonna eat it?", Timothy stammered, giving Michael a worried look. "No. Look, don't sound so worried, my anxiety's just been really bad today and it's made me lose my appetite. Nothing to worry about. One missed lunch ain't gonna kill me", Michael ranted, trying to dismiss away his friends' worries. Fortunately, the bell rung, and Michael had no more time to explain. "Phew, saved by the bell..", Michael thought to himself, with a sigh of relief. "Well, there's the bell, later guys!", Michael said, practically jumping up from the table. Jeremy suddenly grabbed and stroked Michael's arm with a thoughtful look, and said, "Hope you feel better, Michael." This made Michael's heart flutter, but he brushed Jeremy off with a red face, as he and the other teen boys all got up from the table, saying bye to one another, and departing to their individual classes.

. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /*this is not a real Tumblr, don't go looking it up, stay safe!/ ☺💕


	2. "Eat Your Feelings"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- Bulimia, mentions/slight description of vomiting, Manipulation and self-hatred
> 
> **/some information stated could be false and or triggering as part of the story, do not read ahead if this applies to you./

Michael came home from school that day, feeling bummed and tired- tired because his anxiety had drained his energy, and bummed because he may or may not have lost his childhood best friend and hopeless crush, Jeremy Heere, to a girl. Christine Canigula, to be specific. Of course, Jeremy had always been head over heels for her, never stopped talking about how sweet and friendly she was after their drama class, Michael should have seen it coming- but still, it hurt. Especially since he and Jeremy had originally made plans to play "Apocalypse of the Damned" and share a pizza, one of their Friday night rituals. Of course, Jeremy had ditched him last minute, to go chill with a girl-and probably forget he ever existed, as his anxiety told him- leaving Michael all alone with a whole pizza and no friend. God, he felt like such a loser. He wiped a tear from his eyes, staring at that day's text thread between him and Jeremy.  
\-----  
<11:30 am>  
...  
Jere: So your house tonight, like every friday?

Mica: yep.

Jere: Sounds like a plan, see u then! :)

Mica: see u! can't wait  
\---  
<2:30 pm>  
Mica: jere, where r u?? I got the pizza and game set up

....

Mica: hello??? Jeremy wtf (read @2:42 pm)  
\---  
<2:45>  
Jere: sry, got caught up with christine, she wanted to hang out, and I wasn't gonna pass on that... Maybe next time, dude

Mica: Jeremy wtf, you can't just ditch me like that, besides what am I gonna do with this pizza then???  
.......  
Mica: hello???

Mica: jere, c'mon this ain't like u  
.......  
\---  
<3:01 pm>  
Mica: fine, whatever, don't answer me, it's cool  
\----

Michael felt a slight jealousy rise up inside him, as tears dampened his cheeks. He wiped his tears with a hoodie sleeve, and tossed his phone away. He looked to the pizza sitting at the end of the table, and grabbed for a slice. As bummed out as he was now, he figured he might as well just eat his feelings, since the pizza wasn't going to eat itself.  
\----  
Later, stting on the couch, in his own shame and already halfway through his fifth slice, Michael puts that slice of pizza down, beginning to feel nauseous and overly full... That's how he knew he had overdone it. He sighed shamefully. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He picked it up. A new message- not from Jeremy, but from the Squip. Eagerly, he read through it. Seeing the Squip's messages gave him a quick distraction from his own head.  
\---  
_Squip_: I can't believe you just did that. How sick do you feel?

\-----  
Michael was a bit confused by the message.  
\---  
Player-2: wdym?

_Squip_: the pizza you just binged on, it's disgusting, I know. I thought you wanted to lose weight, eating away your sadness won't help. Go look at yourself in the mirror.

Player-2: ohh yeah, that. I'm sorry.  
\---  
Without a second thought, even as to how the Squip knew about the pizza, he got up, went to the bathroom and did as the Squip told him- As if he were being controlled, or something.. He removed his hoodie and shirt, and stared at his chubby, "disgusting" upper body. His phone buzzed again, signaling another message from the Squip.  
\---  
_Squip_: what do you see, Player 2?

Player-2: fat.  
\-------  
Michael replied, without a second thought. He felt pitiful, the dysmorphic voice screaming in his head. He wanted it to stop.  
\----

Player-2: how do I fix this?

_Squip_: do you feel sick and disgusted by your body?

Player-2: Yeah...

_Squip_: ok. what if you could just, throw up?

Player-2: why would I do that??? I don't feel that sick.

_Squip_: no silly, you have to make yourself puke. Besides, your friend probably ditched you because he grew tired of watching you binge on pizza like a fatass on your little "gamer dates". You'd have a chance with him if you weren't so huge. He was probably embarrassed of you.

Player-2: do you really think so?

_Squip_: I know so. I personally lost a lot of dates because they were too embarrassed to be seen with a fat tub of lard like I used to be. Trust me, when you lose the weight, you'll be so much happier, the world will be so much nicer to you, and you'll be able to get anyone you want! Isn't that what you want, Player 2?  
\---  
Michael again, replied mindlessly, almost as if he were being hypnotized by the Squip's words. They were for sure powerful with their typing, and Michael was hooked on every sentence.  
\---  
Player-2: yeah... How do I do it?

_Squip_: read this, it's not the prettiest way of getting rid of your food, but if you have no self control to stop, you have to get rid of it somehow.  
(mia-purge-wiki)*  
\----  
Michael clicked the link Squip sent him, reading into the article. 

"Purging- the act of induced vomiting, via sticking ones fingers or a toothbrush down their throat to gag, a method of avoiding weight gain, especially used after eating large amounts of food."

He read further, and saw something that instantly locked it in his head, that while this was gross and undignified, it was necessary.

"Purging, especially if done in excessive amounts, can cause weight loss."

He read a bit further to a part that informed him how to do it, and then breathed deeply. He could almost feel the pizza in his stomach weighing him down, the dysmorphic voice screaming. He stared into the mirror once more at his shirtless body, poking shamefully at his chubby stomach- however, his mind began to distort his image, and he began to see himself much bigger. He envisioned how he wanted to look, much skinnier than this, the Squip was probably right. Why would Jeremy Heere want to be seen with a fatass like him...? With all the thoughts swirling in his head, he pulled his glasses off, and threw them aside, leaned over the sink, and shoved two of his fingers down his throat, until he gagged on them. He struggled to get anything to come up, which made him feel frustrated, but he kept at it, until finally, he began to feel his body go cold, whilst his face and the back of his neck grew red and hot- and with a twitch, he spewed his guts into the sink, all chunks. He was disgusted by what he had done, was he insane? Normal Michael would have never gone through with something like this... But he figured, normal Michael was a pussy, and now he was taking control of his body, it felt good. He felt powerful, but he wasn't done. Shoving his fingers down his throat, he puked a few more times, before there were no more chunks, and the last thing that came up before he figured he was done, was a clear-ish liquid- stomach acid. It burned his throat coming up, and the taste he got when it hit his tongue was the worst. He'd have to get used to it though, he thought. He would probably be tasting that for a while.  
After that ordeal, his abdomen cramped, his stomach muscles were sore from all of the forced vomiting, similar to how his leg muscles would get sore after running laps in gym class. "I guess purging is like an excersise... Maybe if I keep doing it, I'll have abs," Michael thought, with a chuckle. He looked down at his hand, his knuckles were red and scraped, probably because of how he bit his teeth down on them everytime he gagged himself. He then looked in the mirror... He looked like a hot mess, yet he felt almost proud. His face was really pale, he was sweaty, his cheeks looked puffy and red, and there was even a bit of vomit on his chin. He wiped it away with his hand, and then got excited when he noticed something... Turning around to get a side view of himself in the mirror, he thought his stomach almost looked a bit flatter now, after making himself sick. He then turned on the water in the sink, and washed his vomit down the drain. After doing so, his phone buzzed once more, yet another text from the Squip.  
\----  
_Squip_: I'm proud of you, I admire your willpower. Are you proud of you too?

Player-2: very. now what?

_Squip_: weigh yourself on the bathroom scale, tell me what it says.

Player-2: okay...  
\----  
Michael obeyed the Squip once more. He pulled the bathroom scale out from it's cupboard under the sink, and stepped on. He cringed when the number read, "180 pounds", then shamefully replied to the Squip, with a sigh.  
\----

_Squip_: well..?

Player-2: 180 lbs. I feel gross again.

_Squip_: Wow. You should. We have a lot of work to do. Get an empty notebook, and write that down. We'll start journaling tomorrow- all the calories you eat, every time you weigh yourself, and every purge, it goes in the notebook. Got it? You can find how many calories are in almost anything, by looking at the packaging or on the internet. Calories make you fat, so the less the better.

Player-2: yeah... I think they told us that in health class, will do. What if I can't find the calories in something tho? That's hard to do with cafeteria food.

_Squip_: Well, if you can't find out the calories in something, don't eat it- if you get hungry I'd recommend chewing gum or filling up on water. Oh, and personally, I'd stay away from that cafeteria food completely if I were you.

Player-2: this all seems a bit much... 

_Squip_: I'm only trying to help, but if you don't want it then stay fat. 

Player-2: hey, okay... I'm not quitting or anything, just saying. 

_Squip_: you're either in or out, Player 2. What do you say...?  
\----  
Michael hesitated for a moment, he felt like he was being controlled by something. Normally he wouldn't listen to creepy internet messages like this, maybe it was one of the assholes at school pulling a sick joke on him... Despite this, if it really was his one chance to finally lose the weight and get Jeremy back, he decided he would have to be all in, no matter how weird or uncomfortable it got. He replied.  
\----  
Player-2: I'm in, obviously.

_Squip_: good, that's what I thought.  
\----  
. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> */not a real wiki page, don't go looking it up, stay safe!! ☺💕/
> 
> */some information stated could be false and or triggering as part of the story./


	3. "Day One."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/ Body Checking, Eating Disorder Behaviors/Mentions, Body Dysmorphia Mentions, Description of Anxiety Attacks

The next morning, Saturday, Michael rolled out of bed, with a groan. It was 9 am, he saw, as he checked his phone, then put it down. He hadn't really slept the night before.... He could sleep in, as it was a Saturday, but he was interrupted from doing so by a buzz from his phone, indicating yet another message from the Squip.  
He picked up his phone again, as he got up from bed and put his glasses on.  
\----  
_Squip_: Hey, are you awake?

Player-2: Yeah, what's up?

_Squip_: Have you started your journaling??

Player-2: oh nah, I just got up... Will do tho.  
\----  
With that, Michael did just as he was told. He grabbed an empty notebook from his dresser and a pencil, then headed off to the bathroom. Closing the door and locking it behind him, he tossed the notebook down onto the bathroom counter, flipping it open to the first page. Michael took his pencil and wrote at the very top of the page, " Reinventing Michael, Day 1". He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and pulled off his pajama t-shirt, instantly cringing at his shirtless body.  
He looked down into the sink, with a sigh, letting his thoughts run wild for a moment. Most of why he didn't sleep the night before was because he found himself scrolling through the "Pro-bones" Tumblr that the Squip had given him a link to pretty late into the night. He found all kinds of little tips, like how to hide food, what not to eat, and things like that. He also found himself quite drawn to the many "thinspo" posts that were displayed amongst the Tumblr page... Pictures of extremely thin women- and men- meant to inspire one's weight loss, because who wouldn't love someone as thin and weightless as that..? Whilst scrolling throygh the images himself the night before, Michael imagined if he were that thin, Jeremy would be able to pick him up effortlessly, and romantically. The thought made his heart flutter. He also remembered reading about something called "Body Checking", described as a way for one to scope out all their imperfections and envision properly how much and where they wanted to lose weight.  
Michael stared back into the mirror, poking and prodding at every inch of fat and stretch marks on his stomach, arms, hips, back- and took note of all these "imperfections", writing them all down on the inner cover of the notebook, following every little rule and piece of information he had gathered from his previous Tumblr spiral. He then decided to weigh himself again, so he could document it in his notebook as well, he supposed the Squip would have advised him to do so anyways... It seemed peculiar however, that the Squip hadn't messaged him at all since earlier. He went to step on the scale. Of course, Michael didn't expect to have lost anything overnight, yet he still cringed when the scale read "180 pounds". Had he gained?- No, this was the same number as the night before... Yet his dysmorphia was telling him he looked even bigger than before. Michael heard his mother call him down for breakfast- But after looking at his "disgusting" body for so long, Michael had lost his appetite for anything. He messaged the Squip with a question.  
\----  
Player-2: should I eat?  
\----  
The Squip replied quite quickly, with just the right twist of words that put Michael at ease.  
\----  
_Squip_: Not really my call, but I suggest you do... I'd rather you not binge once you realize how hungry you actually are later... Just get rid of it afterwards, okay? Just like last night. And don't forget to log your calories in your notebook. Here's an app that helped me count my calories  
*(fit.pal-counter)

Player-2: Thanks, see u. Gtg eat now.

_Squip_: yep, see u n good luck!  
\----  
After getting dressed, Michael went downstairs. Breakfast smelled good- his mom's cooking was always good. His mom was already making his food, he looked over and watched to see how much she would give him.

"Mom, what are you putting in the waffles??", He asked sheepishly, about to enter it into his calorie counting app. "Uhm, just eggs, milk and the boxed waffle mix. Nothing new, sweetheart", His mother sighed. He entered it in quickly, it came out to 80 calories. To him, that seemed like quite a lot, although he wasn't that familiar with those types of numbers. He let out a sigh. "What's wrong, bud?", his other mother asked, coming to the table. "I... Just give me one waffle, instead of two. I'm not really that hungry today", Michael said upsettedly. "Hm. Alright, then. You feeling ok?", his mother said. 

"Erhm.. Yeah, I'm fine! Just not that hungry." His mother let out a sigh. "Do you want eggs?", she asked. Michael squirmed anxiously in his seat. "Uhm. Just one, please", he mumbled. "Alright then," she said, placing the playful of food in front of them. The family then began to eat their breakfast, except for Michael, who sat there poking at his eggs with a fork. 

He could feel his anxiety creeping up on him, all the numbers and voices swirling around in his head, his stomach tying up in knots... He threw his fork down and drew his knees up, hugging them up to his body in his chair and put his head down. He began to hyperventilate, his body going into a cold sweat, and his mothers could just barely hear him mutter "I'm not hungry" under his breath repeatedly, over and over. He could feel his chest getting tight, his heart racing, as tears began to fall into his cheeks. This was an anxiety attack, not something unfamiliar to Michael. He had anxiety attacks before, but this was different.. It came on so suddenly, and for something as silly as eating. This wasn't right. Suddenly, Michael felt a hand on his back, and a soft comforting voice- his mother's. "Michael, sweetheart, are you okay? You should eat a few bites of your food, then you can go lie down." This helped pull Michael out of his attack, but the mention of eating didn't quite put him at ease. "Is this about Jeremy, hun? I never saw him come over last night", his other mother asked. Michael sighed, about to put a forkful of egg in his mouth. "Eh. It kinda bummed me out, he ditched our plans to go hang out with a girl, at the last minute." "Man, that sucks. Are you sure that's all your eating? It seems odd that you suddenly want to eat less today..", his mother added. "Ma, I'm fine. I just.. Ate too much pizza last night, so I'm not that hungry today. In fact, I don't even think I could manage to eat my waffle", Michael sighed, eating some of his egg. His mother gave him a stern look. "Michael, eat your waffle", she said, strictly. Michael sighed and picked up his fork.  
. . . . . .  
He finished his egg, and about half of his waffle before complaining that he just couldn't bear one more bite. This behavior was highly suspicious to his mother, especially since Michael was usually the kind of kid who ate all of what was on his plate and then asked for more. Maybe he was sick..? She also recalled Michael's body image issues. She knew Michael would sometimes spend hours checking himself in the mirror. Maybe this had something to do with it...? She dismissed the thought for the moment.  
....  
"Can I please be done now?? I'm way too full", Michael groaned. His mother let out an exasperated sigh. "Put your plate in the sink, then you can go", she said, with worry in her voice. 

Michael practically jumped out of his seat, put his plate in the sink, and went straight to the bathroom, to do his business. He logged his calories from breakfast, and attempted to purge it up. He found it more difficult this time, and it made his throat burn- but he did it, eventually. He felt somewhat accomplished afterwards.  
\----  
There was a buzz from his phone. Although, it wasn't from the Squip, surprisingly enough... It was from Rich. Hesitantly, he clicked the message open with a sigh.  
\-----

A$$hole(rich): Hey, jere's sorry for yesterday, he tried 2 call u, but u didn't answer. Also, we were wondering if u wanted to come and hang at the park with us? We'll get lunch in a bit too if ya want.

Mica: no, thanks. And tell him he's forgiven, but I expect him to show up next Friday.

A$$hole(rich): k. Hey, is my name still "asshole" in ur phone?

Mica: uhhh no, totally not. Gtg.

A$$hole(rich): ok later.  
\----

Michael chuckled a bit, and went to rinse the taste of vomit out of his mouth.


	4. "Changes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Mentions or descriptions of Eating Disorders, Body Dysmorphia.

As the weeks began to pass by, Michael slowly began to eat less, and would now simply skip lunch- telling his friends he just forgot his lunch money.... Again. One less meal he'd have to get rid of later, he'd tell himself. He was beginning to close himself off, isolating himself from his friends, to focus more on the Squip, and "fix" himself. His anxiety had never been worse than it was lately, he couldn't sleep most nights, and mostly got through his days on copious amounts of iced coffee or energy drinks. He stopped hanging out with Jeremy on Fridays, saying he didn't feel like pizza or video games that night. Jeremy didn't seem to mind- it just gave him more time to spend with sweet, perfect Christine. Michael was never the jealous type, but whenever he saw Jeremy with Christine, it made his blood boil. But soon, Jeremy would be back with him, once he was skinny and presentable. 

Pretty soon, Michael began to loose weight, slowly but surely... Within less than a month since he and the Squip had started talking, he dropped almost 10 pounds, going from 180 to 172. He felt that his progress was disappointingly slow, but the Squip reassured him that slow progress was better than no progress. Michael also began to notice some changes.  
His hair would fall out in small clumps when he brushed through it, The marks on his hand from purging never seemed to heal. He was always so cold, some days he would wear an extra sweater under his hoodie, he had become unusually pale, and his lack of sleep caused him to have dark circles under his eyes. He was moody and constantly irritable.  
. . .  
Michael felt as though he had just barely drifted off to sleep finally, when his alarm screeched in his ear. He rolled over with a groan, and shut it off, dragging himself out of bed, with a yawn. Another dreary, cool Monday in February. He got into some sweats and did a 7 minute workout in his room, as he had been doing for the past few weeks, since the Squip had him start doing so every morning. He then shuffled off to the bathroom, with his notebook in hand, and went through his routine. He showered, brushed his teeth, and then, still stripped of his clothes so nothing could weigh him down, he stepped on the scale, dissatisfied with the number-as he usually was. He documented the numbers, and then, by that time the Squip messaged him some new thinspo, or some words of encouragement, the Squip always knew how to keep Michael going.

He brushed through his hair, having a handful of it fall out into the brush, as was the usual, got dressed and then went downstairs. By now, it was 7 am, he'd have to leave soon for school. His mother was in the kitchen, having coffee, and his other mother was already off at work. Michael scarfed down a bowl of cereal, only to slip off to the bathroom again once more and 'dispose' of it all into the sink afterwards, before chugging down a rockstar energy drink and heading off to school.  
\----  
Upon arriving at school, Michael just so happened to bump right into Timothy- or, rather, he damn near fell on top of him- he had been experiencing frequent dizzy spells, quite randomly, and this just happened to be one of those times.  
"W-w-woah, M-Michael, careful! A-are you f-f-feeling alright?", Timmy stammered, as he caught Michael and stopped him from faceplanting onto the pavement. Michael pushed away from Timmy, brushing himself off. "Yeah, I'm totally fine, Tim-Tim. Just sorta dizzy..!" he said, with a weak chuckle. He then noticed Timmy staring sort of wide-eyed at him. "Y-you seem to b-be dizzy a l-lot lately, M-Michael... Uhm. N-no off-offense, b-but you r-really look l-like c-c-crap. Y-you're a-all pale and y-you l-l-look like you haven't ss-s-slept well in a wh-while", Timmy said, now looking down.  
"Gee, thanks.- Really Timmy, I'm fine", Michael sighed, rolling his eyes. "W-well, if you s-say so... See you a-at lunch", Timmy said, just as the bell for first period began to ring. "Yeah, see ya", Michael mumbled, and the two boys departed to their individual classes.


	5. "Lost Friendships"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't mind them- They're jealous. The only friend you need is me, and I know best."  
> Michael felt let down by his friends, so he ditched them for the Squip. No harm done, right?.....  
> .....  
> ...  
> Right..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Yelling, conflict, Mentions or descriptions of Eating Disorders, Distorted thoughts/self image, Mentions or descriptions of Body Dysmorphia, Manipulation.

Over the next month, things became worse. Michael was almost always dizzy after standing up or simply just moving too quickly. He had even begun to briefly faint after getting out of bed some mornings. He'd always scold himself and vow not to get up so quickly the next time. Simply, he just looked worse than ever. But to him, he was finally making progress- he had almost no appetite most of the time, so not eating was easy, he usually only ate if he had to, like when his mothers would force him to eat breakfast with them every weekend morning when both of them were home from work at the same time, which had been more rare lately, since they both had started taking later shifts at their jobs recently. Of course, he would 'dispose' of any food just as he was told- and to avoid binge-eating, he even made the difficult decision to quit smoking weed- getting the munchies from being high always led to a binge, which would only land him back at square one. Michael was beginning to lose weight so much quicker now, to where his friends began to take notice- hell, random kids he didn't even know would compliment his appearance, or tell him he looked like a 'zombie'- which he also considered a compliment to some extent. Going from 172 pounds, to 160, then 152, he could almost see his ribcage now, when he pulled his shirt up... Still, he felt like it just wasn't enough. He planned to get at least below 120 pounds before he could allow himself to be happy with his reflection, and in that case... He still had quite a long way to go.  
\----  
Another boring three periods of classes went past Michael in a blur- A typical Wednesday, really... Then came lunch period. Lately it seemed all his friends were constantly all trying to shove food down his throat, so he planned on avoiding the cafeteria, thus avoiding his friends. He didn't need them anyways, he'd tell himself. However, it seemed a certain someone caught on to his idea of avoiding them- Timothy Kleinman.  
\----  
If not for Jeremy, Timmy was quite easily the most worried about Michael's current state. Especially since the intelligent blonde was known to pay extra attention to small details, things other people might overlook... He noticed Michael's panic when food was mentioned, if the friends were going to meet up at a restaurant, Michael was usually a no-show. When he did eat in the cafeteria, he always went to the bathroom right afterwards, and was usually in there for quite a while before coming out again. Timmy noticed how moody and sleep-deprived Michael had become, he noticed Michael always shivering under multiple layers, even when it was nice and warm out. He noticed the dizziness, and it all began to add up.  
When Timmy noticed all these problems, he went to Jeremy- Michael's closest friend beside Timmy himself- and told him of his worries, hoping Jeremy could talk to Michael and get through to him somehow. That particular Wednesday, the two boys put together a plan, to confront Michael, and get to the bottom of these issues, before it was too late.  
\----  
Michael was walking quickly through the school courtyard, music blasting in his headphones, when he bumped right into Timothy. He pulled his headphones off with a sigh, to apologize to the inquisitive and worried-looking blonde for so carelessly bumping into him. "Woah- Sorry about that, Tim... Didn't see ya there..", Michael muttered, his head spinning. "N-no biggie- funny I sh-should run into you, th-though. I ac-actually w-w-wanted to talk t-to you..", Timmy replied, with a firm tone. Michael was certain Timmy was just going to try to make him eat. He had to think of a quick response to get Timmy off his back. "Yeah, uh... I actually have to be somewhere at the moment... So, no time to talk", Michael said sheepishly, trying to walk off- although he was stopped by another person firmly grasping his arm. He whipped around to look, and saw that it was Jeremy, and he looked absolutely worried. For a moment, Michael wanted to jump up and hug him, but he quickly reminded himself, "Jeremy doesn't really give a shit, he's a traitor", under his breath. "Michael, we really need to talk to you.... We're worried about your wellbeing and stuff, dude...", Jeremy said softly. God, Michael loved that voice, which made him more angry. He pulled away from Jeremy's grasp. "Since when do you care, Heere??! You didn't seem to give a shit when you chose Christine over your best friend!", Michael shouted. Jeremy reeled in shock, giving him a guilty look, while Timmy stood frozen and silent off to the side. The anxious brunette was silent for a moment, before speaking once more. "What do you mean, Micah? Every time I ask to hang out, you tell me you don't feel like it that night." Michael could feel his ears grow red and hot. "September 14th. Christine stopped you on the way home, and you ditched me last minute, because you just couldn't pass up that opportunity to hang out with pretty, perfect little Christine", he growled. "I... I'm really sorry, I swear we can hang out anytime you want to and I won't ditch you, promise!!", Jeremy mumbled, visibly shaken by Michael's sudden anger. "Shut it, Heere. You can have Christine. I'd be embarrassed to be seen with someone as disgusting as me too, if I were you", Michael raised his voice once more. "M-Michael, calm the ff-f-fuck down. I-If Jeremy re-really didn't care, he wou-wouldn't be here begging you to talk to him, n-now pl-please... Just talk to us, w-we know something's wrong, and we wanna h-help", Timothy butted in, quite firmly. "All you wanna do is shove food in my face. You've helped me plenty, just screw off!", Michael screamed, before turning on his heel and storming off, leaving the other two boys standing.

-and, Of course, as if on cue, Michael's phone buzzed, signaling a new message from his little 'friend', The Squip. Once he had gotten far enough from Timothy and Jeremy that he couldn't see them anymore, he checked the message.  
\--------  
_Squip_: Ha, you're smart for getting away from them.  
\--------  
Michael quickly responded, and they began chatting back and forth, like usual.  
\--------  
Player-2: am I?

_Squip_: Yea, don't mind them- They're jealous. The only friend you need is me, and I know best.

Player-2: Well, I've never had anyone care like you do, so I trust you, 'squip'.  
\--------  
Michael felt let down by his friends, so he ditched them for the Squip. No harm done, right?.....  
.....  
...  
Right..?


	6. "Making the 'Cut'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Self-Harm, Manipulation, Mentions or descriptions of eating disorders.

. . . At the end of the day, Michael ended up blocking his two friends, Timothy and Jeremy on their social medias and text, because they wouldn't stop messaging him trying to get him to talk to them. He came home feeling the lowest he had ever felt, he hadn't eaten all day and he was weak, cold, and so, so tired. He flopped himself down onto his bed, throwing his bag into a corner of his messy, disorganized room. He laid there with music blasting in his headphones- however, it wasn't Marley- he had been getting into some new music lately, and one of the artists he had recently started listening to was Melanie Martinez. She was, certainly different from his usual tastes, to say the least... But there were a few songs that drew him in, with the lyrics and tune... One of those was a song by the name, "Orange Juice." The lyrics he found were frighteningly similar to what he was going through, especially the first line. It would always make him visualize back to the time he first purged, and he felt he just related to it.  
\--------  
However, his thoughts were screaming so loudly that the music wasn't helping... He was tired... Just so tired, he wanted it all to stop, he just wanted to... end it. A barrage of new, scary-ish thoughts came flooding into his mind... Of hurting himself, or taking sleeping pills and passing out for days- he would have done anything at this point to quiet the voices and just sleep for a few hours. Whilst laying there, on his bed, Michael spotted a box cutting knife laying on his bedroom floor, just a few feet from his bed. The thoughts grew louder, and his messages were quiet... He didn't know what else to do. He got up, grabbed the box cutter, and sat back down on his bed with it. He held it in his hand, looking at it... It was quite new, he hadn't really used it much for anything. He pulled the blade out, and ran his finger across the tip of it- it was nice and sharp, even causing a small cut on the very tip of his finger. He breathed shakily. What was he doing..? He wasn't really thinking anymore, he felt like his mind was no longer his. He pulled his hoodie sleeve up a bit, exposing his bare arm. He placed the blade up against his skin, shutting his eyes tightly, as tears prickled down his cheeks. His mind went quiet, as he pressed the blade into his skin. He felt a small, sharp pain, as he broke skin, and slid the blade across his arm, creating a small, straight cut now adorning his once empty, bare forearm. He opened his eyes, letting out an exhale of relief, as he watched the blood bead and trickle down his arm, creating a tiny red blotch on his Pac-Man bedsheets, and staining his sweatpants. Strangely, he felt at ease, like all of his pressures had disappeared when he cut. He knew he probably shouldn't feel good about what he had just done, but he felt a sense of relief... His mind was quiet now, like he had wanted. He stared somewhat shamefully at the small cut on his arm... It was no big deal, though, he assured himself... It was one small cut, it could easily be hidden, and it would be the only cut he ever inflicted on himself... Or so, he hoped it would be... Sometimes, sadly, that just isn't the case.  
Pretty soon, one cut slowly multiplied into several, scattered across both arms, and Michael even began getting urges to cut every so often, as if it were a nicotine addiction or something.  
\--------  
... (March, 18th, 4:32 PM)  
It was Timothy Kleinman's birthday, and he and the rest of the group were chilling at the Kleinman's, playing video games and whatnot. Of course, Michael was there too, even if he would have rather been at home lying alone on his bed in the dark... But Timmy was one of his closest friends, and he didn't want to disappoint him by not showing up. However, he could have easily disappeared, and the dark brunette was sure no one would even notice, since he was pretty much hiding quietly in a corner of the living room, not talking to anyone (except for an occasional message from The Squip), and was scrolling through his phone with his music blasting. Suddenly, he felt someone nudge his shoulder, which startled him. He pulled his headphones off and looked up, to see Timmy's older brother, Benjamin standing there with a plateful of cake. "Hey, I never saw you eat any cake... Do you want a slice?", he asked. Michael huffed, and he could feel his stomach flip... Of course he wanted cake, it looked delicious- but one bite of that, and he'd be back to square one. "No thanks," Michael grumbled, turning away. "Oh... Alright, then", Benjamin pulled away, and before Michael slid his headphones back on, he could hear one of the others say "I told you he wouldn't eat it." in the background. He sighed, and went back to listening to his music. 

\--------

A while later, everyone started playing Mario Kart, and Michael ended up joining in. He was having a good time for a while, but it didn't last. His thoughts began to race, and because of all the people and everything going on around him, he began to feel overwhelmed, and like his senses had been overloaded. He could almost feel an anxiety attack coming on, as his chest tightened up and he began to feel shaky and sweaty. Rich, of all people, seemed to take notice. "You okay, headphones? You look all sweaty and shit." Michael stood up from his seat. "Yeah... I'll be fine, I just need to grab something from upstairs, and I'll be right back down", he muttered. Rich nodded, and went back to the game while Michael turned to the stairs. He shut himself in the upstairs bathroom and let the anxiety wash over him, as he curled up against the wall, crying and shaking. After a few minutes, he began to calm down, and felt an urge to cut. Seeing no reason to ignore it, he gave in and pulled out his box cutter. He pulled his sleeves back, and pressed the blade into his skin, watching the blood trickle down once more. He zoned out the rest of he world as he focused on his arm, so he didn't notice when Timmy came up into the bathroom. 

\--------

The curious blonde had noticed Michael had been in the bathroom for a while, and volunteered to come check in on him. He was met with shock and dismay when he walked into the unlocked upstairs bathroom, and found the hoodie-wearing teen on the bathroom floor, teary-eyed and harming himself with what looked like a knife meant for cutting boxes. Not sure what else to do, Timmy ran up to him, and grabbed his hand, preventing him from cutting any further. Michael flinched and Timmy yelled his name. "M-Michael, why... why were you hh-h-hurting y-yourself like thh-th-that?!", Timothy shouted. Michael stammered, trying to get the words out. He had been caught, and he had no idea what to say. "I-- uh, I just... Okay...Look,Timmy, it's not that bad, okay? It's not anything for you to worry about, so just... Walk away and forget you saw anything", Michael said, his eyes full of tears. "N-no, I c-can't just walk away from this, M-Michael", Timothy said firmly as he grabbed the box cutter from Michael's hand, and glanced down at his friend's bloodied arm... There were cuts, both old and new scattered up and down the length of his arm,or at least what Timmy could see of it. He shuddered quietly at the sight. "W-why..?", Timothy repeated. Michael sighed. "I don' t know... I just wanted to quiet... The voices... It gives me something else to focus on other than what's going on in my head, I guess...?", he stammered, running his fingers along the cuts on his arm. "W-well, I th-think we should ge-get you cleaned up... My mother w-wouldn't be too pleased with h-having blood on the bathroom t-t-tiles...", Timothy said softly. "You're... not gonna tell anyone, are you...?", Michael mumbled. "W-well, you can't k-keep this a secret- or at least, y-you shouldn't..", Timothy's voice got stern again. "Well... I'm not ready to tell anyone...Yet.. So, please... Keep your mouth shut." Michael replied, with a frown. "Okay, I-I won't s-say anything ab-about this to the others... At l-least let me f-fix you up, though...", Timothy pleaded. "Jeez, okay 'mom'..", Michael scoffed jokingly. He allowed Timothy to bandage his cuts- Michael was perfectly capable of doctoring his own wounds, and would have preferred to do so, but Timothy obviously just really wanted to help, and being such a close friend, Michael felt bad for worrying Timmy, and not talking to him as friends should- and there was something about the way Timothy so carefully and gently patched him up, gave him a warm feeling. Someone cared, and that felt good, after feeling alone for so long.


End file.
